When Chaos Reigns
by lunaslushie
Summary: This picks up where Season 12 ends; spoilers through Season 12. It is a multi-chapter story with several story arcs. I don't own the main characters but I do own my ideas. Featuring Dean, Sam, Adam, Michael, Jack, Ben B., Bobby, Lilith, Lucifer, and some OCs to move the plot. More of your old favorites coming soon. Reviews are welcomed this is my first fan fic.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my ideas

Prologue - Rips in Space and Time

In the theory of the multiverse, it explains that every possible outcome, for every single action exists simultaneously, across different dimensions. Everything happens all at the same time. If a leaf falls in one universe, it won't in another. You make a left turn in one universe, a right in another, and in a third you go straight. Every possibility occurs. Some universe has a real TARDIS, a real set of Ravagers, a real Sherlock. In others, someone's imagination that made it up.

Everything always happens.

In this realm where this story takes place though, we deal not only with possibilities, but also specific locations. Earth. Heaven. Hell. Purgatory.

So, while Dean and Sam were looking in wonder at that golden tear in their realm, behind that lake house in the middle of nowhere Idaho, other Golden Tears existed elsewhere. One was in the land where the boys were never born. One was in a realm where Sam and Dean did exist, but grew up with Adam. In one universe John was a great dad, and they had the Apple Pie life with Mary at his side. In another John's the one who died that fateful November.

This story picks up when the Golden Tear in space and time appears inside the Cage in Hell, in the realm where we know Dean and Sam. Did you forget about the Cage? There were still two residents there, since the one everyone thinks about broke out wearing an Angel suit of our favorite Seraph of Tuesday.

Two beings were watching that Golden Tear warily.

One was human but barely resembled it anymore. His sandy blonde hair was once clipped short and neat. It now hung almost to his shoulders, in long, dark, dirty tresses. He needs a shave, a bath, new clothes, and other things. He's aged, just like everyone topside has. In Hell, time moves faster. He's got in gray mixed into those long dirty locks There are creases on his face, forehead, and tugging at the edges of his eyes. His gray beard is scraggly. Overall, he's incredibly weak. He's on the downside of middle age for this realm. He can barely stand up, he's so emaciated, as he squints. The Golden Tear is too bright for his clouding blue eyes. He must turn away a bit.

The other being, well, there aren't words in this realm to describe him. He outshines that Golden Tear. He recognizes it for what it is. He knows what it could mean. He turns to the human, and asks, one last time, if it's okay to share space.

Once consent is given, the two, now one, move towards that rip in space-time. Things turn so bright, upside down, inside out, and they ride the wave into the unknown ….


	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing except my ideas.

Chapter 1 – This one time, at band camp…

To prepare for the other side of the unknown Michael threw up every protection he thought of, not only to protect himself, but to protect his aging vessel. Stepping into the unknown can lead to disastrous results and he did not want any further harm to come to either of them. Sometimes it's better to be left unseen and unheard.

With a flash of bright golden light, he finds himself on the damp soil. It's dark out, and when he can make out the details around him through those somewhat cloud blue eyes, he realizes, he recognizes someone there.

On the ground before him lies a man in a trench coat. Next to him is the kneeling form of a taller man, in his mid to late thirties, with short cropped blond hair. His green eyes stare down at the dark-haired man who is laying on his back on the ground. The trench coat form appears not moving, and after another tick, it is noticed he is not breathing either. Michael is aware of the remnants of energy that linger in the air here, as well as the surge of energy not far away from here. Oh look, it's coming from that two-story home some 400-feet behind the two.

Human eyes are so weak. The two of them blink together, and Michael holds his hidden-from-the-view-of-mankind's-eye. He covers the mouth of the shared vessel, wanting to stay as quiet as possible, as he figures out what is happening. Then recognition hits for both. His true vessel. His brother.

The heartbreak in the air is nearly palpable. Dean is kneeling, stunned into silence, the loss of the moment before can't be processed by his mind or his heart. His mother, diving through the Golden Tear into that other reality. Lucifer reaching through the Golden Tear just as the spell of The King of Hell's goes into effect, slamming into the back of Castiel with his own angel blade, before being sucked back through the void and the passage sealing off. He can't blink. He can't breathe. _Cas!_

His silent prayer is heard loud and clear by the Archangel hidden from view.

 _Please, oh God, don't let Cas be dead. I can't do this without him. Don't let Lucifer win! Cas! Mom!_

Michael reaches out to the prayer, and speaks back, in the same frequency, not aloud, but in prayer form, " _If I can save him, will you submit to God's plan?"_

Dean blinks. An answer in the form of a question is not what he was expecting. He's slow on the uptake because of the shock. He takes a deep breath, biting gently on his lower lip. He keeps praying, " _All Cas ever wanted, was to do right, Chuck. You've saved him before. Do it again. Please._ _ **Please**_ _. After all Sam and I have done for you … don't you think you owe us?_ "

It's not enough. Michael tries once more, and skips subtly because Dean is clearly in shock, " _Say Yes, Dean._ "

A tear slides down Dean's cheek. He takes in a shaky breath, and realizes after another click that he is physically shaking a bit. Adrenaline will only hold you still for so long. He tries to process that last piece. Finally, he prays in response, " _Cas would say yes,_ " and the next piece, he carries a wry small twist of humor, " _when have you ever known me to do what you say, exactly. C'mon. That's not fair_ " Anger follows in the next few thoughts, " _None of this is fair. You are not a fair deity. In fact, you kind of suck. You really suck! Do a man a solid, for once in your Everlasting, selfish, deadbeat, life!_ "

Michael can't think of a response. To himself he thinks, "Typical Dean," and frowns slightly.

From the house, a flash of golden light takes over the area. It encompasses everything in sight, like an extremely close strike of lighting. Michael uses it to escape. He slips from his vessel, and disappears, beginning a long search for another. This one is too old and weak. He's served his time and then some. It was a Deal, after all, get topside, then free.

Dean's eyes close with the flash, as it glows from golden to white behind his eyelids. He can't see anything anyway when things get that bright.

During these same panicked moments of prayer, there is action going on inside the house. Sam's dashed back in, up to the second floor. He's followed strange, golden glowing, large footprints to the room Kelly selected as the nursery. "Why are these footprints so big?" he wonders, as he makes his way with trepidation.

Moments later he spies the form of a young man, crouched in the corner near the crib, leaning against the wall. Golden glowing eyes peer out at him. He prays silently, and simultaneously, as the praying that's going on in the yard, " _Oh God. He's … he's not a baby. He's full grown!_ " followed by a, " _Please God, don't let me screw this up._ "

Out loud, Sam utters, as gently as he can, "Jack?"

The creature pulls itself to his feet, and steps from the shadows into the partial light. The glowing golden irises eventually dial down, leaving a beautiful blue in its wake. He blinks. He takes a breath. He gauges the near-giant who stands before him.

Then the flash of golden light that overtakes the area, overtakes the house too. Sam can't watch, closing his eyes, and falling to his knees, hoping the Nephilim will recognize the pose as non-threatening. He too can't see the golden flash turn totally white, even though it does.

When the light passes, and Sam realizes he can hear his own breathing, he opens his eyes. He's left in the shadowed room, alone, breathing hard because of his anticipation of what could have happened.

Faintly, he hears his brother's frantic voice echo from outside, "Sam!"


	3. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing except my own ideas

Chapter 2 – Whoosh, whoosh, mother*cker

Being in non-corporeal form is kind of a pain. It's information overload, and it can be hard to navigate, especially if you aren't beefed up with additional mojo.

Fortunately, that's not a problem for this winged friend. He's not quite omniscient, but it's close. There are perks to archanegelhood. His immediate need of course, is for a human vessel. He doesn't want to cause damage to His Father's favorite toys by showing the form he's currently in. While his True Vessel is still kneeling, and screaming out for his giant-sized brother, he knows there are others that can handle his power. A quick scan reveals his next target, a nearly 19-year old, dark had lad, who happens to live in Cicero, Indiana.

You might remember him, though the last time we saw him, he was just entering that awkward, early-teen stage. He failed at playing matchmaker to The True Vessel and his mom. Ben has grown since you've last seen him, and is now living on his own, splitting his time between Vocational school, baseball, and working at this crappy bar. See, despite the lies told many years ago, this boy too, carries the right bloodline for vesselhood for the Archangel. He may not be a pureblood, but, like the recently discarded man, he'll do for quite a while. Plus, he has great eyesight.

At this moment, while the Archangel hovers unseen, the young man is making his way home from work, walking with his latest Girl of the Week. He's acting the part of a gentleman, walking her home first. He's been trying to close this deal all week. He's hoping tonight's the night. The Bar isn't in the greatest part of town, but they are young, and only focused on each other. They don't even hear the addict sneak up behind them, but the girl lets out a squeal of fear, when he rushes from behind, pressing the knife to her abdomen.

Normal requests are then made, asking for money, her purse, that necklace, and cell phones. If it's shiny, the addict can sell it, and get his next fix. Ben tries to protect her, after passing over what few bills he earned tonight in tip. But the need to get high is too great for this junkie. He was nervous enough, but the withdrawal makes him shaky, and suddenly the girl's bleeding from the abdomen. She collapses into Ben. The Junkie bolts, and while the girl is stunned into silence, moments later there is screaming. Ben doesn't even remember lowering her to the ground. He's frantic, wondering what to do.

 _Oh God, please, don't let her die! What do I do? Help! Somebody help!_

The cries for help echo down the street in pleas for help. Much later, Ben will realize he was the one screaming.

The Archangel uses the same prayer frequency, as Ben, with his reply " _Do you truly want to save her?"_

" _Yes. Oh God, this is my fault. Please help her!"_ Ben is frantic. He doesn't even know basic first aid. She's bleeding hard and starting to slip into unresponsiveness, " _I'll do anything!_ "

" _Say yes to me then, Ben,_ " the Archangel answers, " _Surrender yourself to the will of The Lord._ "

" _Yes. YES!_ "

That's all it takes. Moments later the Archangel is adjusting to the new vessel. He keeps his promise. He extends the new hand over the girl's wounds. Blue-white hued light glows from his hand as he repairs the damage, and restores her health. Her eyes flutter open. She looks puzzled for a moment. He helps her to her feet, but he's uncomfortable as she wraps her arm around his waist to continue their trip to her apartment. He steps out of her casual contact.

When they get to her place, it's awkward. The Archangel doesn't know these human nuances and behaviors. She tries to steal a kiss. He doesn't respond. She tries to hug him. He wonders why she's squeezing him with her arms. Whatever progress Ben was making towards closing this deal, it's completely undone. It finishes with a door being slammed in both their respective faces.

Then the two whoosh out of there as fast as humanly, and Archangely, possible.


	4. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I own nothing except my ideas.

Chapter 3 – Mmm, Mmm, good.

Darkness begins to fade into this gray, semi-consious state. Sound permiates the senses first as thunder rolls. Some of it is closeby, others rumblings, are so close that teeth chatter. Smells follow into the wakening state next: dust with a twinge of age to it, the metallic smell of blood, and then gunpowder. She's aware of the weight of another person laying on her. She shoves whoever it is off.

A rough arm grabs and yanks forcing the awakening woman to her feet. Her blue eyes flutter open, squinting. Then an order is barked at her, the gruff masculine tone, leaves no room for argument, and the urgency cannot be missed "Move it! They're coming! We've got to get out of here!"

Breathe! Hurry! She's trying to run before she's even fully awake, stumbling for a moment over the unconscious body of whoever was on top of her. She manages to follow behind the small band of soldiers. They've left that body behind. She's weaponless but the running men look armed to the teeth. She can't see faces for most have their heads wrapped in military tactical desert scarves.

As they run, weapons fall from the sky. The bombs are not like anything she's seen before. Their explosions are even worse.

It doesn't take long for her to realize this realm is purely chaotic.

Over hills, jumping over downed trees, left over body parts, it is truly a flight for their lives.

Finally through the dust, she spies some kind of cave in the side of a hill. She follows the soldiers as they make their way towards them. She wasn't completely paying attention during the running but it looks like several of them, aren't there anymore.

Once the darkness again engulfs her, she leans against the damp cool wall, breathing hard. Coughing kicks up a moment later, as all the dust and smoke in the air have aggravated airways. Someone passes her a dented metal canteen. She settles her throat with a surprising gulp of very expensive scotch.

There's more shoving, as people guide her deeper into the cave. Down into the earth they elect to hide. It's extremely narrow, and she bonks her head against a stalagmite, uttering a curse under her breath after impact. Eventually the passageway widens, and light can be seen. They've put together some kind of underground hide out. Hundreds of people mill about here, furniture has been brought in with the lanterns that make the space usable.

The soldiers begin to remove the outwear, and one particular one makes his way over to her after removing his scarf. His hazel eyes squint, and a slightly shaking hand reaches up, brushing dust from his mustache and beard.

His gruff tones carry astonishment as he croaks out, "Mary? What in the hell are you doing here?" And a click later, "I thought you were dead. Well I know you were, I saw you die."

Mary reaches back shoving medium length wavy blond locks from her face, "I kinda was," sheepishly, "but I'm not anymore." She knows how ridiculous this sounds. Then she squints, trying to study his face, and place it, "You sure look like an old friend of mine, but that couldn't be right. He's dead now."

He nods slowly, "Well, it's good to have a Campbell back on our team. We sure could use your help."

Mary is quick to correct, "Winchester. I'm a Winchester. John and I got married..."

He interrupts, "That's not possible. John died. Then you died."

Mary shakes her head, "No," she says, slowly, "We married, had two boys, then … I kind of died. And came back," she frowns a bit. This is impossible to explain.

His eyes light up a bit at the mention of boys, "A Dean and a Sam?"

Mary nods, "Yep. Those are my boys."

He nods as well, then answers, "Now it makes sense. You're not my Mary. Err.. Um... Balls, you're not the Mary I know. From here," he says pointing towards the ground. He sticks out a hand, "But you might have known me. Bobby Singer."

Mary grins, "I thought that was you," she says warming up. She steps up to the outheld hand, and moves quick, in for a hug.

Bobby coughs awkwardly at the hug. He pats her back. He clears his throat, "Well, welcome," sarcasm slips into his words, "to Hell on Earth."


	5. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I own nothing except my ideas.

Chapter 4 – Don't You (Forget About Me)

Boots thump down the stairs of the lake house, as the more frantic, and louder call for, "Sammy!" echoes across the air. Moments later Sam bursts through the front screen door, and down the front landing. He comes to a halt as he nears Dean's kneeling form.

Dean hasn't left Castiel's side. But he nods towards the new body, that just appeared out of nowhere., "Where the hell did _that_ come from?" Dean asks. His eyes flick from the man with long gray hair, who is on all fours, heaving for breath, and an opposite of Castiel's completely still form. Just to his left is the dropped Angel blade, still dripping in blood. The metallic hint of the smell of blood in the air isn't missed by either brother. It's like they are being mocked.

Sam's brown eyes widen, and he moves towards the strange older man. He clears his throat, "Are you okay?" he asks, bending down some, a hand reaching out to offer support if the stranger needs it.

There's additional wheezing for a moment or two, and Sam can hear the effort now that he's closer, as it is accompanied by a slight-almost-wheezing. He's also close enough he can see that the older gentleman is shaking some. He manages to raise up a hand, palm towards Sam, indicating he doesn't need help. Sam stays quiet, and another moment later, the older gentleman gets to his feet.

Slightly cloudy blue eyes sweep in the scene before him again. It's weird purging of an archangel, and it takes a few moments for his thought process to catch up. Then his brain connects the wires, and he manages a weak, "Sam? Is that you?"

Sam's posture shifts to a more defensive position when the stranger utters his name. He stays quiet, but also studies the older gentleman, clearly in dire need of some personal grooming. Sam's held tilts just slightly to the right, trying to place the bearded face. The hair's not right. The build's not right. He's first instant thought that it was Dad, quickly is shaken off.

Now impatient, the older gentleman finally solves the puzzle, "It's me … Adam."

Now Dean hasn't move from Cas. But he heard that. How is it possible he pales in color even more? Things are happening too fast, and the should-be-eldest Winchester can hardly keep up. His green eyes snap over to the other two, and once he recognizes the older man, and quietly, he utters, "Son of a bitch."

Sam manages to recognize him too, "Oh my God," he moves in, "Do you need help?" he offers and without even waiting for an answer, one of his powerful arms is being wrapped across Adam's shoulders, "Let's get you inside," and he begins to guide him towards the lake house. "Dean…. Come on," he requests gently. It's not an order, but he tries to impart that it's important to follow the two of them.

"In a minute, Sammy," Dean answers quietly.

Sam and Adam proceed towards the house. Dean knows he needs to go there. He can't pull away from Cas just yet. He can't. _Cas! No don't be dead!_ When alone Dean takes in a shaking breath, and a rough set of fingers wipe tears off his left cheek. The same hand then reaches out, and touches the chilled skin of Castiel, checking for a pulse. He bites the corner of his lower lip. Then both eyes close, and his posture slumps, defeated. He doesn't find a pulse. Of course, Dean is unsure if the angel had a pulse to begin with. He knows that this is a bad sign though.

Then he remembers Sammy needs him. He gets to his feet. He shakes his head, then carefully, moves to pick up the still form of his trench-coat-wearing friend. He walks over to Baby, and somehow also manages to open the door into the back seat. He lowers Castiel into the seat lovingly, making sure he'd be comfortable, in case it turns out he's just sleeping. The door creaks closed then.

Dean turns towards the beach house, squares his shoulders, and heads back in.


	6. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I own nothing except my ideas. There is a major season 5 spoiler in this chapter all in Italics. If you haven't seen season 5, skip past it please. Also, there's some minor cursing in this chapter. This chapter is mostly a flashback a scene from an episode, my apologies for lack of original content. It's necessary though, for the next chapter. Enjoy dear readers!

Chapter 5 - Return to the Point of No Return

As Dean makes his way across the yard to the stairs of the lake house, after leaving his best friend in the back seat of Baby, he can't help but think back to the last time he saw Adam.

 _Dean reaches out and opens the old door to the shed, inside a warehouse in Van Nuys, California. Moments earlier Castiel had moved through, clearing out the surrounding area in the warehouse of angels. Of course, he also cleared away himself using the blood sigil._

 _Before Dean lies the opalescent wealth of glory that Heaven thinks a room should be. Pristine white walls, with golden trim in the paneling. An elaborate table with even more obscene chairs. He spies Adam crunched to the floor past the table in the far corner, blood seeping from his lips._

 _Dean's green eyes dart carefully looking for others, as he currently makes his way towards his youngest brother, "Adam, hey. Hey."_

 _Adam is only semi-conscious but the sound of someone speaking to him brings him to. He can't hide the surprise in his voice, "You... came for me."_

 _Dean reaches around and helps Adam to his feet, putting his arm under his arms and around Adam's back, "You're family," he says as Adam gets to his feet._

 _"Dean don't... it's a trap," Adam manages after shuffling up to standing._

 _"I figured," Dean states and his tone indicates he knew that was coming._

 _Zachariah is blocking their path, looking smug in his dark suit and silver tie, "Dean. Please. Did you really think it would be that easy?" He nearly mocks the two boys._

 _Dean narrows his eyes, "Did you?" He answers back._

 _Sam rushes in from behind the Angel, wielding the silver angel blade, and attempts to stab at Zachariah. The Angel turns towards his right at the last second, deflecting the blow, then using his powers to shove Sam across the room to the opposite wall._

 _"Sam!" Dean calls to him, concerned as his lanky younger brother crashes to the ground._

 _"You know what I've learned from this experience, Dean? Patience." Zach says smoothly. Then with a movement of his right hand, Adam is vomiting up blood. The youngest collapses downwards unable to stay on his feet from the building pain he suddenly feels._

 _Dean tries to help Adam down, "Adam?" He says, concerned, then he glares back at Zach, green eyes filled with fury, "Let him go you son of a bitch."_

 _"I mean I thought I was downsized for sure, and for us, a firing, pretty damn literal," Zachariah can't stop his monologuing, because his ego just won't let him. Dean glances from brother to brother, then squares off, prepared to do battle to defend his family._

 _Zach then chuckles a bit, "But I should've trusted the boss man. It's all playing out like he said. You, me, your hemorrhaging brothers." He turns towards Sam and twists his wrist, and suddenly Sam is as sick as Adam, vomiting up blood. Z_ _achariah moves in to close out the deal. He steps towards Dean, reassurance in his voice, "You're finally ready, right?" Dean keeps glancing between his brothers, "You see things our way. You know there's no other choice. There's never been a choice," Zach continues._

 _"Stop it. Stop it right now!" Dean manages, in a voice just a bit louder than a whisper. He finally looks back at the angel._

 _"In exchange for what?" Zachariah asks._

 _Dean closes his eyes. His visibly grimaces, "Damn it, Zachariah. Stop it, please," he begs._

 _A click passes, and when Zachariah doesn't answer, Dean can't believe the words escape his mouth, "I'll do it."_

 _Zachariah lefts his right hand towards his ear, and mocks the eldest, "I'm sorry. What?"_

 _"Okay, yes. The answer is yes. Do you hear me? Call Michael down, you bastard!" Dean can barely hide the anger in his words._

 _"How do I know you're not lying?" Zachariah counters, suddenly suspicious._

 _"Do I look like I'm Lying?!" Dean's posture, his eyes, everything reflects he believes what he is offering, 100%._

 _Zachariah grins gleefully, and smugly turns his back to Dean. With the most self-satisfying smirk, he begins the Enochian spell to summon God's Eldest Archangel. A rumbling begins after the final word is spoken. Zachariah then returns to English., "He's coming."_

 _Dean winks behind Zachariah's back to Sam, a non-verbal answer to Sam's most concerned gaze. He can't help the half smirk that tugs at the right corner of his lips. His plan worked, and a moment later, he drops his bombshell, "Of course I have a few conditions."_

 _Zachariah turns around sharply, "What?" He is incredulous at Dean's words._

 _Dean smirks, loving that he tossed a kink in Zach's plans, "A few people whose safety you have to guarantee before I say yes."_

 _"Sure, fine. Make a list." Zachariah's now having his best day ever. He's not going to let this dampen his spirits._

 _"But most of all Michael can't have me until he disintegrates you." Dean can barely hold the venom back in his voice._

 _Zachariah is stunned, "What did you say?"_

 _"I said," Dean repeats, as he moves closer to the smarmy Angel, "before Michael gets one piece of this sweet ass, he has to turn you into a piece of charcoal."_

 _Zachariah chuckles nervously, " You really think Michael's gonna go for that?"_

 _"Who's more important to him now? You? Or me?" Dean knows he's won this one._

 _Zachariah panicks when the truth of that line hits home. He crosses to Dean grabbing a fistful of his shirt collar, "You listen to me," he nearly hisses, " You are nothing but a maggot, inside a worm's ass. Do you know who I am after I deliver you to Michael?"_

 _"Expendable," Dean answers, calmly._

 _Zach chuckles again, "Michael's not going to kill me."_

 _"Maybe not," Dean says, sliding an Angel blade that was hidden in his right sleeve, "But I am."_

 _With ferociousness Dean stabs Zachariah right beneath the chin, slamming the blade up into his skull. Flashing blue-white hued light explodes from the Angel, as he grunts in surprise. Dean is thrown back from the force of the expulsion and execution of the Angel. Zachariah collapses to the floor, his vessel still, and the black dusty prints of wings are left surrounding it, climbing partially onto the pristine white wall. Dean lands on his backside, not far from Adam._

 _The rumbling is louder now and is accompanied by a high-pitched humming. Both continue to grow in intensity and volume. The pain that was overcoming Sam and Adam dissipates instantly at Zachariah's death, and all three of them glance upwards, knowing who's coming._

 _Dean gets to his feet, and moves over to Adam, dragging him upwards, "Can you walk?" He asks, still clutching the angel blade._

 _"Yeah," Adam manages, and shifts so he can carry his own weight unassisted._

 _"Okay, come on." Dean tells the youngest. Then he goes over towards Sam. He helps Sam to his feet, then with arms around each other the two get to the door. Dean opens it, walking through with Sam, and tosses over his shoulder to Adam, "Come on! Move it!"_

 _As Dean and Sam move into the warehouse, the door into that interior shed swings closed behind them, trapping the youngest boy. "No!" He cries out, then pounds on the door, "Dean! Help!" He tries the doorknob again, and it won't budge._

 _Dean lowers Sam to the ground, then turns back, hurriedly. His other brother needs him. He tries the handle but it has heated up with the incoming Archangel's arrival. It burns at his fingers. He can't open it._

 _The bright white light continues to build, and Adam still bangs on the door, "Dean! Help!"_

 _Dean glances around frantically, squinting in the building brightness, "Hold on!" He yells back, so the youngest boy will know he's still there, "We'll get you out!"_

 _"Just hold on!" One of the brothers yells from outside._

 _Adam turns towards the white light... and then... nothingness._

 _Moments later Dean calls for Adam and opens the door, and finds, the space, is empty. His brother is gone. He has failed._

When Dean reaches the top step he of course also remembers when Death made him choose between Sam or Adam. The guilt he still carries since he chose Sam haunts him daily. As he opens the door, and steps into the living room, Dean makes a silent vow. He will not fail his brother again.


	7. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I own nothing except my ideas. Warning: mild swearing

Chapter 6 – When the Levee Breaks

Dean steps into the darkened living room. Adam is slumped into one cushion on the worn down old couch. The fabric has browned with age, so the pale floral pattern now looks more like generic splotches. Sam, once making sure Adam is settled, has chosen to sit opposite, in a dark brown, sagging easy chair. He's too tall for the chair, so his legs are stretched out, heels resting on the floor. His brown eyes flitter towards the doorway, as Dean moves inside.

Dean's green eyes move from Sam, towards Adam, and he moves to slip past Adam's form on the couch. The coffee table makes the passage narrow, and as his goes by him, his sense of smell is inundated with unpleasantness: dirt, grime, the strange nearly sweet smell of unwashed skin, a hint of blood and vomit, and even brimstone, fill the air surrounding the youngest Winchester. Dean stifles an audible gagging. He settles on the far cushion, then not so subtly, scooches further away, pressing up against the armrest, trying to put as much space between himself and those smells as possible.

Silence owns the room for a few moments, as the three Winchesters glance towards each other, clearly nervous and unsure where to go. Sam shoots Dean one of his specialty looks, nodding slightly towards Adam as he does so, trying to non-verbally tell Dean to speak up. Dean raises his eyebrows and shakes his head slightly at Sam's request. A finger reaches up to gently point to Sam, then to Adam. Clearly Dean thinks this is Sam's responsibility.

Sam huffs slightly, and rolls his eyes. He moistens his lips, and manages, "Adam, can I get you a drink?"

Adam looks towards Sam, his cloudy blue eyes squinting, "Water would be great," he manages gruffly. Then he sighs waiting patiently.

Sam eagerly jumps to his feet, and steps out into the kitchen to fetch the drink.

To himself, Dean mutters as Sam practically runs out of the room, "Son of a bitch," realizing he's being left along with his younger-now-older brother. He clears his throat, "How are you?" he finally manages, trying to sound like he's vested in the answer.

Adam turns towards Dean. He narrows his eyes slightly, "Tired," he answers, "And apparently old, my bones and joints are all aching. How long," he pauses as Sam returns, to accept the glass of ice water and take a sip. Nothing has tasted better, ever. "How long was I down there?" he asks, looking from Dean to Sam, "and how the hell did you get out?"

Sam clears his throat, "We're not real sure," he answers, "but I was without my soul for quite a while." Awkward.

Dean seems about to jump into the conversation, but Adam beats him to it, "No I remember that. Lucifer and Michael were fighting over it. It was," he pauses for another quick sip of water, "it was one of those few times, they left me alone." His voice takes on a hollow tone towards the end of the comment.

Dean has to intervene now, swallowing his fear before he does, "Adam, we did try to get you out," he says, firmly, "it just …. We never could figure out a way. I'm sorry, man."

Adam glances over to Dean, and nods, slightly, "I know you did. They mocked you for it. They mocked you both once Sam was pieced back together. Of course, then they told me, Death made you choose," and Adam can't keep the venom out of the last phrase.

The anger in Adam's last statement is palpable. "I'm family, huh?" he says, now glaring at Dean.

What Adam can't see, is the changes that are happening to him, as he is sitting there. He seems to be aging right in front of the other two Winchesters. He goes from looking in his late 60s, to mid-80s quickly. His hair thins, and begins to fall out. His face gets crinklier. His beard thins out. Pale yellow liver spots show up on his face, arms and the back of his palms. He manages a sarcastic smile, and the age is visible in his teeth, yellowed with age, and lack of care.

"Fuck you, Dean," Adam manages, his voice getting scratchier as the aging continues. Moments later he goes completely still, the glass of ice water collapsing to the floor. His color and pallor changes.

Sam realizes, then, that Adam has stopped breathing. He jumps to his feet, "Adam!" he states loudly, then after another moment, he yells, "Adam!" He moves towards the man, reaching out to check his pulse.

Dean is paralyzed. He has no idea what to do, he has no comeback, no retort, no game plan, for the anger from the brother he, basically abandoned.

Sam moves to pull Adam off the couch, and lay him on the floor, "Dean!" he yells at his older brother, trying to pierce through the fog that has enveloped him, "Go call an ambulance. Now!"

That at least pushes Dean back into action. He reaches for a phone, and makes the call. Sam begins rudimentary CPR, and the minutes that tick by feel like hours.

It takes a full 15 minutes for the EMT squad to get to the house. The EMTs come in and take over for Sam and Dean, who've been switching off in the CPR cycle. Five minutes later, they code Adam.

Gone. Just like that. No chance for redemption, apologies, or reunion. Dead.

Adam makes the fifth today if you count the disappearance of Mary and Lucifer.

Dean can't handle it. He retreats to the kitchen, and finds a bottle of cheap scotch. He unscrews the top, and doesn't even bother with a glass. Or ice. Or a chair.

Sam is left to try and explain the awkward situation, and insists that they will handle the transportation of the body to the funeral home. He goes into baby, pulling out the cigar box of IDs, and finds one, that shows that he is an active mortician two states over. It's enough to make the professionals go away. He's left in the living room, he brother's dead body on the floor. The angel in the backseat of Baby. Kelly, upstairs in the bed, undiscovered by those professionals.

Sam wants to stop and process, but he knows he can't. He knows Dean is useless right now. He gets to his feet, goes and finds an axe, and begins putting together a funeral pyre for three.


	8. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I own nothing except my ideas

Chapter 7 – No Quarter

When Jack finally finishes his fleeing, he finds himself at a scenic overview in a National Forest, up in the mountains somewhere. If he had seen a map, he'd see he landed just north of Tamworth, NH, and the peak he's found himself on, is called Mount Chocorua. The mountain overlooks a beautiful valley with a pristine lake at the bottom. The sun is just cresting at dawn, and the water is so still, it creates a perfect reflection of said mountain.

He settles down on a nearby bench since he finds they are in the scenic overlook section of the hiking trail, and enjoys the glory that is a sunrise.

From behind him, up the rugged trail, comes a single hiker. He can't see the hiker, nor does he turn around, so he fails to see that it's actually a young woman, with long dark hair, and deep amber shaded eyes. She's got one of those fancy Camelback packs on, to keep her hydrated. He also doesn't know that she was hiking through most of the early-morning hours in the dark. She was hoping to catch the sunrise alone. She frowns, seeing that there's an intruder. The park is not very well traveled, so there's only the one bench. She slips onto the opposite end, and sits, resting after the almost three-and-a-half-hour hike.

Jack moves his intense gaze for just a moment, from the stunning colors in the sky, to the girl. He gives no greeting, but was more curious. Then he turns back to the show in the clouds.

She takes a few moments to suck down some liquid from her pack. The hike is hard in the daylight. It's even more challenging at night, but she's been training, and a quick glance at her Fitbit indicates, she's had her best night hike time yet. It makes her grin. She nods towards the rising sun, "Sure is proof that God got something right, huh?" Her voice is filled with humor, but lacks an accent, indicating, to anyone from the area, that she, was not so, "I mean who else, would paint the sky so?"

It takes a few clicks for Jack to realize the young woman is talking to him. He grunts, noncommittally in response. He decides after another second that's not quite enough, "I guess. I wouldn't really know," he says gruffly. He thinks his voice sounds weird. The color show before him is glorious, and he starts to lose himself in it. A moment later, his blue irises glow gold.

She grins wider, and lucky for him, she's watching the colors too, "The Native Americans here, they have a story about the skies," and she pauses for another drink, before continuing, "Algonquins used to run over the lands. They claimed Kisosen's eagle was in charge of the day. When his wings opened, it brought the sunlight. When they closed, it ushered in the night." She pauses, squinting a bit at the brightening eastern sky, "Last I checked though, an eagles' wings don't have that shade of perwinkle in them." She turns then, just catching a hint of the gold at the edges of Jack's eyes. She's sticking out a hand before she completely registers the glowing irises, "I'm Seth," she offers.

Jack turns towards her and it takes a moment before his eyes return to their normal blue.

She gasps surprised at the eyes that change color. She tilts her head slightly to the right, and raises her left eyebrow. Then she just grins just slightly, "Cool," she comments.

Jack notices her eyes now instead of the sunrise. They change from amber,irises, to the brightest white and are rimmed in lines of black. Her pupils also change from black, to a gorgeous azure blue. For some reason she's chuckling now, "Ah, I get it," she says to Jack, "I suspect, we have a lot to talk about."

Jack's focus changes completely. He forgets about the sunrise. Enraptured, he reaches for her hand. She links her fingers through his, smiling wider, "Let's find somewhere, not so … obvious, hmm?" she instructs him.

Jack nods, "Yes, let's," he agrees and with a fluttering of wind, the two disappear from the glow of the morning sunrise.


	9. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I own nothing by my ideas

Chapter 8 - Bulls on Parade

Slowly his eyes open, glowing red, reflecting the anger that comes rushing back from his unconscious state. He doesn't carry a memory of the celestial bomb that touched down, shortly after he was dragged back here by that bitch Mary Winchester. The explosion knocked them both out, but he took the brunt of the explosion since was closer.

His eyes glow red, the rage he's locked inside this vessel seeping out in the piercing gaze for a moment. He gets to his feet. He howls at the air, discovering not only is he still trapped in this place, but now, the immediate source of his rage has disappeared. It echoes off into nothingness. There is not even the sound of battle nearby anymore. The scent of a recent one lingers In the air.

His tantrum continues. He kicks at the ground, stirring up rubble and sending it flying. He finds a particularly strange triangular wedge jammed into the ground, several times higher than the average man. He wails against it with fists. He uses his angelic power to attempt to shatter the barrier. When the dust clears, it's still there, mocking him.

This infuriates him so he misses the arrival of a certain woman, dressed in a skin tight, mermaid shaped, white gown. Her long blond hair flows down her backs. She puzzles a bt at the site of Lucifer, raging against nothingness it would seem. Her eyes change from completely white, to the normal blue irises after a moment. Then she figures she best make her presence known. She swoops down into a proper curtsey, and utters loud enough to be heard, "My Dark Lord," towards Lucifer.

This makes the fallen archangel whip around sharply. He's not used to people sneaking up on him. He takes a few bold steps towards the girl, then rests a hand atop her head. He strokes the blonde hair, and a plan seems to form itself as he does so. He sounds so smug, when he finally speaks, "Ah…. Lilith. I was wondering if you were here."

He uses the pressure of his hand to force the demon to gaze up at him. She manages a smile, "At your service, as always," she says smoothly.

"Where are your brothers and sisters?" Lucifer asks, trying to not let his thoughts get ahead of his assets.

"Come, My Lord," she says, "I will show you."

Lucifer releases his hand on her head, and she gets to her feet. She reaches out, linking her fingers through his, taking both his hands in her. She can't help but smile. Then she drops one hand, and begins to lead Lucifer off in the direction opposite of where Mary disappeared earlier.

While no additional words are spoken, the two begin to chuckle, as only those engaged in nefarious planning, can. It echoes, then fades, into nothingness. It keeps the reunion hidden from other unseen forces.


	10. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I own nothing except my ideas.

Chapter 9 –Dust in the Wind

Long fingers move through auburn locks, shoving them from his face, as Sam takes a moment to catch his breath. He's successfully built the pyre needed for three. While Dean has been hiding away, halfway into his second bottle of cheap scotch, Sam has been pushing side his emotions with physical labor.

Building a pyre is a lot of work. For one this size it is a lot of wood. There's prep work, peeling off the smaller branches and sprigs on each limb, making sure the wood is dry enough to actually be used, then making sure they are about the same height, and the cross bars to hold the weighted sheets atop. It takes hours to assemble. Daylight is long gone by the time the youngest Winchester finishes his labor.

He heads back inside to sneak in a shower, and about halfway through his emotions make a painstaking resurgence. He curls up onto the floor, leaning back against the wet tile, sobbing. He's grateful the water probably muffles the sound. It's hard to know how much water is due to the shower, and how much are tears streaming down his cheeks. His sobs wrack his body, as he's lost in the moment of mourning: Mom, Cas, even the smarmy bastard Crowley. Now Adam. Sure, he barely knew Kelly, but she was an innocent in all of this. He even sobs for Jack, who did not ask for this existence, and he worries how frightened and rudderless he must be. Sam takes some time to let himself process.

While Sam is having his girly feelings moment, Dean, has clearly chosen another path. He has pleasantly found his distraction from emotion through alcohol. The color in his cheeks, the glassiness of his deep green eyes, indicate he's well on his own trip to his own self-imposed oblivion. He eventually gets to his very uneasy feet, and manages to stumble outside, bottle still in hand. First, he spies the wooden pyre Sam has built. This makes him scowl, and he screams at it for all he is worth. He doesn't use words, merely sounds of anger, frustration, and hate. He storms off towards Baby. He slows as he gets closer, then once there, lovingly rests his forehead on the window one of the back-passenger doors. He gazes inside, at the still form of Castiel. He doesn't say anything. He just stares, waiting, it seems, for the Angel to wake of his own accord.

Dean hasn't missed the fact that Sam has left a large folded white sheet atop Baby's roof. It's held down by a sliver of a brick he found while cutting wood. He manages another swig from his bottle, then reaches for said brick. He turns, and hurls it into the night of the surrounding wood, another heartbroken sound accompanying the effort. Then he grabs the sheets. He takes the rest of his bottle, and dumps the contents on the sheet. The bottle follows the same hurled path as the brick fragment. He reaches into the pocket of the coat he's wearing, and pulls out his lighter. The flame licks to life on the alcohol and fabric. Dean attempts to hurl this too, but it only goes about three feet. Still, it's far enough away it's no threat to Baby, or it's valuable cargo. Dean hurls the lighter towards the burning sheets as well, then with shaking hands, he buries his face in his palms. From the movement of his shoulders, it is clear he is sobbing too, albeit silently.

His rage returns soon, and he's storming towards the unlit pyre. He pulls down limb and limb, throwing everything in disarray, so the pyre, will look like his emotions.

When the water turns to ice, Sam remembers he's in the shower. He stands, wiping tears from his eyes with one hand, and using the other to turn off the tap. He steps out and dries off. His autopilot functions mean he dresses and grooms without thinking about it. Then he steps into that second bedroom.

Kelly is where he left her, lying atop her bed, eyes still closed as Sam did that on the last pass. He moves to the closet, and removes a large white sheet. Carefully and respectfully, he lowers her into the sheet, and wraps the ends shut, like he has done too many times before. He hoists the package into his arms, carefully navigating the stairs so she is downstairs. He rests on that worn couch for now, and turns, ready to find a sheet for his younger brother. Then out of the corner of his eye he catches the glimmer of the flames his brother has ignited. Sam frowns, and turns instead to the front door.

The scene before him is a bit odd. Sure, there's that flaming small pile near Baby, but more it's the rage that he sees Dean taking out on his pyre. Sam groans, thinking of the additional work he'll have to do, but he doesn't interfere with Dean. He just watches, concern growing evident on his face, the way he knits his brows, and the softness that enters his deep brown eyes.

Dean's been at this enough that he's now in full rage mode. If the pyre were a monster it would've been ripped apart and shredded alive by the eldest Winchester. He takes all his anger and rage out on the inanimate object. He looks around for a moment, hunting for the ax. He knows there should be one nearby.

Sam barely sight of Dean's face as he looks for the ax. When he does his jaw drops.

Black. His eyes are black. Totally black.

Sam has one thought: Oh, no!


	11. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I own nothing except my ideas.

Chapter 10– Something Not-So-Wicked This Way Comes

Sam blinks. Once. Twice. No way he just saw what he thought. Dean continues to rip down hours of his labor. The sheet smolders, flames fading into a pile of rapidly cooling embers. It's only then, that Sam realizes it's dawn. The sky shifts, from the ominous dark of night, to the pale pre-dawn gray. He hesitantly steps off the landing, making his way towards his raging brother.

"Dean," he calls out as he heads towards the wreck of wood.

Sam's greeting goes unheard. Dean's so caught in his rage he spins around, aiming for Sam with the ax. He doesn't see his brother. He doesn't see anything. Sam's less than an arm's length away.

Sam reaches up, to stop the incoming swing, internally saddened. He saw what he thought. It's not Dean staring at him, but some demon raged beast, wearing a Dean suit. He doesn't hold back with the next phrase, yelling at full volume, "Dean! It's me! Sam!"

The ax does not lose its momentum. Only the sound of wood hitting skin, indicates its forward motion is stopped, as Sam barely can stop the handle mid swing. The blade is but a few inches from his face. " **DEAN**!"

If Sam's yelling isn't' enough to distract the angered eldest Winchester, there's a headlight heading straight for them, are. He blinks once or twice, eyes shifting back to his green irises, and then he realizes he's nearly killed Sam. He let's go of the axe, and squints as the headlights grow brighter. "Wha …, sorry Sam," he says, his rage slowly subsiding.

Sam's barely got a grip on the ax, so when it falls, he's at least able to make sure it is not directly onto his head. It thumps ominously to the ground. The rumbling of a big old American made motorcycle gets louder on approach. Once close enough, the bike is turned to park, engine cranked off, and the light switches off a moment later. The rider wears all black leather and dismounts the bike, pulling off a dark black helmet complete with dark face plate to protect features while riding. A long wave of red auburn hair shakes loose from the helmet. The helmet is stashed on the back of the bike, then the woman turns and in a few strides, is right next to the Winchester boys.

"You two," she practically hisses, "are nothing but headaches. When are you going to stop breaking everything?!"

The boys exchange a glance. They don't know this woman. Dean can't resist, "Um, never?" his smart-aleck response is so predictable.

Sam however, is a little more cautious, "And you are?"

"Kari, with an eye," she says smoothly, "You knew my friend Pamela, right? Before you fried her eyes out and killed her in the veil," she frowns slightly, "Don't think I'll be making her mistakes." Then she sighs, "I only made this ride because it was just a couple hours."

Sam makes some connections, "You…. You're a psychic?"

She smirks wider, "Best one you've ever met. Pamela was my protégé."

Dean frowns, "You're too late. They're dead," he says flatly.

Kari can't hide her all-knowing grin, "That's your first mistake." Then she nods towards the Impala, "Mount up boys. We've got a lot of ground to cover." Then she notices the semi-wrecked pyre, "That's about the worst idea you've ever had," she says, nodding towards Sam, "bring the girl too."

Sam hesitates, glancing to Dean. Dean's eyes widen at the new woman's words and he hones in one: mistake.

"Go get Kelly, Sam," Dean orders. He slides behind the wheel.

The rumbling of two engines echoes across the lake, just as the sun crests the horizon.


	12. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I own nothing except my ideas. Warning: mild swearing

Chapter 11 – (We Are) The Road Crew

The two vehicles drive east with steadfast purpose. They turn south in the Dakotas so they will be able to stop at the Bunker outside Lebanon, Kansas. 

Sam is very tense the whole time. Who wouldn't be with bodies in the back seat. He almost doesn't let Dean drive. The last thing they need is to be stopped by a cop. The Impala eventually leads the path to the bunker, and the girl on the bike, follows.

Once inside the garage, the two boys exit the vehicle. Kari parks her bike, and looks over some of the other cars there, "Nothing refrigerated, huh?" and she frowns, seeing that, "That could prove problematic."

Dean rolls his eyes, "Why the hell would we have a cooler truck?" then the storms down the stairs into the main war room.

Sam glances over at Kari's words, "We don't have a walk-in cooler here either," he comments. He didn't want to mention it earlier, "But I might be able to jerry-rig something."

She nods, "I can help, if needs be," she offers as the two follow down into the depths of the bunker as well.

A few hours later Sam and Kari have managed to find enough material that they might be able to turn the dungeon into something that would work. They're screwing around with welding tools and piping. Dean comes in, and takes the torch out of Kari's hand. She flips up her visor, and is about to say something, when Dean beats to her it, "Alright enough. Who the /hell/ are you, and why are we doing this?"

Sam, of course, had been wondering the same thing, but had stayed silent on the whole front.

She rolls her eyes, "Dean, the first thing you have to accept, is I know what I'm doing," she pauses a hitch or two, "well, mostly." She admits, "Sometimes visions aren't terribly clear. Like this," she says motioning around the room, "I didn't see this. But it makes sense. We have to preserve Kelly." That's the only person she mentions.

Sam adds, "And Cas. Right?" and his tone indicates it's not really up for debate. He doesn't mention their brother. Dean made the decision that two bodies were more than enough. He doesn't know Adam made the ride as well.

Kari glances over to him. "Um, sure," she says, sounding unsure, "if that's what we need to do, to make sure you keep building this unit with me. Yeah. Cas too," but clearly she isn't sold on that.

Dean reaches out and grabs her by her collar. A few steps later she's pinned up against the wall, squirming, trying to break his grip. "Cas is not option, bitch," he hisses, "He's part of the deal. Understand?"

Kari grimaces a bit before answering, "I don't know. I'm not in charge of that part," she explains, "My job was to get Kelly secured. At least, I think that's all I'm supposed to do. We've been driving. I haven't really had a chance to, like, check in, you know."

Dean narrows his green eyes. He leans in closer, "Then, check in," he says heatedly. The same hand that is pinning her to the floor now, shoves her to the side.

Kari huffs, removing her visor completely, and turns to Sam, "I'll be back as soon as I can. Don't stop working on this okay?"

Sam gives her a vague, angry smile, "Yeah, whatever," he answers. She walks out of the dungeon, muttering to herself the whole time. Sam hopes Adam is part of the deal, too.

While the boys are left on the conversion job, Kari makes it back up to her bike.She digs out a small black velvet bag from her pack, and a moment later, also a box of wooden matches."Too much steel," she mumbles as she glances around the bunker.Instead, she heads outside.Once she finds a small clearing in the woods that surround the bunker, she sits down on the ground, crossing her legs into the lotus position.She unpacks her tools she needs for this, laying them out meticulously. She lights a candle.Then she closes her eyes, takes a few deep breaths, and waits for the trance to come.

Bright golden light illuminates the pathway before the young psychic. She hesitates to follow it. Something is off. Something is down that path she's never seen. She's not sure she wants to. 

Then a hand reaches out and drags her down the pathway. She's kicking and screaming, trying to regain her footing. 

Dark laughter echoes around her.

Then the path turns to blood, filled with various tissue piles, bone, the occasional body part. 

When she looks up, a figure gazes back at her.

Black eyes. Blood dripping from its mouth.

Only then does she realize it stands atop bodies. The dead at the feet of the creature are familiar faces. She's seen them before. But she's so petrified she can't take time to place it.

Two hands drag her towards the creature.

Pain.

The trouble with trances, and with being a psychic in general, is the answers are never black and white. It's a lot like researching Lore. You have a bunch of information, you attempt to turn it into something understandable, and then maybe, you get to guess the right path or choice. Maybe. She wakes from the trance screaming bloody murder. Thankfully, on the wildlife around her hears it.

Down in the bunker Sam continues to work. After a while Dean joins him, though Sam is hesitant. He knows his brother's been hitting the sauce since they stopped. A few hours later, the conversion is complete. The dungeon, will now serve dual purpose, as a walk-in cooler.

Dean scowls once the job is done, but at least takes the time to make sure the tools are tidied away properly. He leaves Sam to the job of moving the bodies from the Impala. He makes all three trips in silence. He does note though, he doesn't see Kari.

Once everyone's tucked into the cool space, Sam decides it's time for a beer. Fortunately, they have that, in the regular refrigerator.

When Kari does come back into the war room she's frowning a bit. She carries her black bag of supplies, swinging it slightly as she moves, "Okay so, we probably should rest up before leaving tomorrow. We've got almost 1,000 miles to cover yet."

Dean arches an eyebrow, "That smells like witchcraft," he says, "Are you using a scurrying spell? Oh God, don't tell me you're actually a witch," he groans some. He hates witches.

She shakes her head, "Nope. One hundred percent bonefide psychic. No attachments," she says, then offers, "I can go stay in town for the night if you prefer." Dean is still giving her a death glare.

Sam, as always, plays the peacemaker, "Actually why don't you go over some maps with me. We can chart out the drive, so we won't lose each other on the way."

Dean snorts, "Oh she's not leaving my sight. We're leaving her noisemaker behind."

Kari moves towards the war table to go over the maps with Sam. She doesn't answer Dean. 

The evening passes without much to report. There's some food, some liquor, and some sleep. Kari keeps the vision to herself. She attempts to sleep on the couch, but mostly, she just tosses and turns. At one point she does shift upwards, and reaches back into her velvet bag. She pulls out a small dagger. Carefully she slices into the palm of one hand. She doesn't very deep. She places the dagger down and dips a finger into the blood. Carefully she draws two sigils, on in the center of her collar bone, the other, at the nape of her neck. Once cleaned up, she lays back down. Now, she'll be able to sleep.

Morning, and the endless drive, will come soon enough.


	13. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I own nothing except my ideas

Chapter 12 – Hey Jude

It's hard to judge how time passes when your main fortress is underground. Mary has no idea how long she's really been in this alternative reality. She guesses week's, but given that she naps whenever she's tired, she can't be sure her tallies of hours are right.

The good news is, she's branching out, and beginning to prove her worth to this rag-tag group of freedom fighters. Geography has been pretty much the same, except now that there's this endless Apocalypse going on, things like roads, are mostly gone, unless you get very far away from major population centers.

Food too, isn't what it used to be. No one can keep farming, so you eat what you can find, and sometimes, what you can't. Hamburgers and pie are a thing of the long-past. The only thing that seems to have survived is liquor, but even that is getting hard to find. Bobby worries about how to compensate the battle-weary soldiers, as those stores start to dry up.

The good news is at least Mary has had a chance to study up on the differences between the two realities. The Apocalypse has been going on in this realm for almost ten years. About three years ago humans decided to shift their priorities to a survival role, rather than an active fight in the battle.

The problem of collateral damage still exists. Every day they lose people, either active fighters, or simple civilians trying to make their way to safety. Communication has slowed to a snails-pace. There are no more cell phones, texting, Twitter or Snapchat. There's not enough power for those kinds of devices, and the Angels used the satellites as battering rams after the first six months. Modern conveniences of almost all kinds of at least stopped, if not disappeared altogether. Even Amazon threw in the towel after the second year.

Major cities have been mostly emptied, except for the few who can't afford to get out, or don't have a way to escape anymore, except on foot. Hospitals closed, the government collapsed, and there's no more professional sports team.

Ironically, Mary thinks it's more like a post-nuclear-warzone than anything they tried to scare her with as a kid in those films at school.

Mary rolls off the cot she's been sleeping on, and moves to go at least attempt to straighten herself up for the day. Once that is as settled as it can get in this environment, she makes her way towards the strategy area. Several tables are here, maps are everywhere, there are even some of those cork bulletin boards on wheels, covered with all kinds of materials. She stops to grab a glass of water in her enamel cup, then heads towards Bobby, "What's the latest?" she asks, idly wondering if the man ever slept.

Bobby points down towards a particular location on the map in front of him, "We sent scouts out earlier. Found a nest of Demons," he says, and Mary notices there's an uptick in preparations going on as she studies the map.

"Are we going out?" she asks, already expecting she knows the answer.

Bobby shakes his head, "Nope. We're going to trap them. Someone's got to know where Lucifer is. We've got to stop your Lucifer, so we can find ours. It's just two too many," and he grins wryly.

Mary sips her water, "Right. Where do you need me?" she asks, wondering which group she'll be pared up with.

Bobby chuckles a bit, "Actually, I need you here, preparing holding cells," and he raises palm to her, predicting her dissatisfaction with the job, "Hold up. Mary these guys are new to this. They don't know the sigils like you do. Plus, you said you had worked with the British Men of Letters. You can't tell me you didn't pick up an ace or two while there, right?"

Mary frowns, "Bobby, we don't even know if that stuff will work here. Anyone can draw a devil's trap. Not everyone has exorcisms memorized in three languages," she counters, in this weird currency of bartering.

"We don't want to exorcize them, ya idjit," Bobby says, gently, "We _need_ them. Once we find a cell connected to your Lucifer, we can at least put him down, before they both team up on Michael."

Mary sets her enamel cup down a little too hard, "Fine," she says through clenched teeth, "I'll stay here." Then she motions further inwards, "What cells do you want fixed up?

This, brings a wide grin to Bobby's face, "Number seven," he can't resist. Anything he can do to mess up the existence for a demon makes his day. Then, surprising he adds, "and thanks."

Mary doesn't respond, simply turning her back and going to find a can of spray paint in the random supplies that linger around the space.

Lore books have been hard to find here. There is a small collection, mostly from Bobby's old home. Some of the 'books' are simply envelopes of photocopies. He salvaged some of his collection, but not all, when the war broke out. While painting in the sigils she begins to think about reading them over. Two teams leave to set traps, and for extra insurance, Mary adds a handful of Enochian symbols she learned from the BMoL. At least they look pretty, but whether they will work here or not is the question.

Once she empties the spray paint she moseys over to the books. There must be a way back. She must get to her boys. They need her. She needs them. She pulls a few things from the stacks, and goes to find a table to do her reading at. She hums her favorite song to herself softly. It's a method of self-soothing.

The research feels like it never ends.


	14. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I own nothing except my ideas. Author Note: Sorry this chapter too so long. I'll try to get back to my regularly schedule publishing this coming week.

Chapter 13 – End of the Beginning

Across the fields of battle, there is another camp, but this one, is not nearly as organized. Demons rule this area, and with the arrival of another Lucifer it is even more chaotic than usual. Demons are usually harsh to begin with, doing whatever they can to better their status. Of course, from a demon status this means not only trying to glean off more power, but also make everyone around you look incompetent at their job.

So, when Lilith arrives our version of Lucifer, things spiral into an even more chaotic state. There's a great debate over which Lucifer to serve. There's an even greater debate over which one is more powerful. It throws a major curve in the daily operations of this camp. In fact, you could argue, no one would have gotten captured, if it wasn't for this single event.

Chaos in leadership leads to weaknesses. Weaknesses lead to fissures in structure and function. Fissures lead to incoming attacks. That you lose because no one really knows who is in charge to direct the defensive efforts.

When the camp is taken by the two squads that Bobby sent out it's really not that surprising. It's in fact done with a minimum about of bloodshed. The attacks are quiet in nature, so they won't attract other unwanted attention.

And that is how our Lucifer, found himself bound and being led on a march back to the holding cells for the humans.

Celestials though, they can never really be trusted. All it takes is a halfhearted attempt on the Hell Version of Angel Radio. That's when things get interesting.

The squads make it back to the underground lair. The handful of minor demons, and our Lucifer, are secured in Cell 7. Mary is pleased to see the sigils appear to be working. So is Bobby. The humans are in high spirits. A lot of alcoholic spirits are also being consumed. In general, among the grunts of the forces, it's party time.

The partying is why the noises aren't noticed at first. By the time folks start to pay attention to the rumbling, it is too late. What is initially attributed to an exterior battle, is actually the beginning of a new tomb.

The cavern starts to crumble in on itself. The frolicking disappears and is replaced with utter chaos.

The last thing Mary remembers is more dust than air. The last thing Bobby remembers is losing site of Mary Campbell-Winchester.

Idjits.


	15. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I own nothing except my ideas.

Chapter 14 - Infinity

 _Genesis 1:1 In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth._

If you believe those of the Christian faith, it is claimed that God created everything. The universe, the world, and everything within. He created time. A byproduct of his creations being given free will, is death. All of this rests in His very creative little hands.

If you believe this realm, God then becomes a deadbeat. Too caught up in himself to really care.

Other religions have similar origin stories, with slight variations. Egyptians believed the world had arisen out of the lifeless waters of chaos. Greeks believed something incredibly similar, but they describe this chaos as an empty void. Hindu texts do not provide a single canonical account of the creation; they mention a range of theories of the creation of the world, some of which are contradictory or chaotic. Other religions or belief systems have an extra element to them, a kind destructionist-leading-to-rebirth type of thing. Who or what was destroyed varies a bit, but clearly, they don't think stuff just popped up from total nothingness. The destruction of one age to begin another.

Even the modern English dictionary agrees with some of this. It defines chaos as the infinity of space or formless matter supposed to have preceded the existence of the ordered universe.

This begs to pose a question for this realm: what if Chaos was not a formless, crazy, empty void.

What, if Chaos, was a being? And what, if to do his little creation thing, God had to destroy that being?

After all, we all know God and Darkness exist.

What if he did a sloppy job with his first sacrifice?

What, indeed.


	16. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I own nothing by my ideas.

When Jack opens his eyes, he can't place the location that he and the strange woman have landed in. In reality, this is a place where nothingness exists; not time, nor space, nor matter. It is the space that all those religions allude to. It is her personal room, in essence. A place she retreats to when she needs time to herself.

Or in this case, time to bring the poor wayward Nephillim up to speed on The Way That Things Are.

Also, unfortunately for us, the conversation is held almost exclusively in Enochian. Which means, unless you are an Enochian-speaking-fly-on-the-wall, you won't know what they say exactly. But you can probably guess.

They probably cover Jack's origin story. They probably cover the whole God and Amara thing. They probably talk about humans. They probably talk about Angels and Demons and all things Supernatural.

They probably talk about the injustice of it all.

They probably talk about Jack's abilities. They clearly work with them, based on the literal sparks that fly around from time to time.

They probably talk about how to fix it all.

And the hard part is, no one in this realm, knows exactly how long they are there working out all these little tiny details.

That is the scariest part.

Whenever it ends, clearly, they are united, for they join hands. With a fiercely proud grin, the Female with the strange Azure pupils, and the Male with the golden irises, dissipate, ready to take on their plan for the Next Phase.


	17. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: I own nothing by my ideas.

Dean squints into the setting sun as he pushes down harder on the accelerator, forcing Baby to move faster down this lone stretch of highway in upstate New York. He glances in the rear-view mirror briefly, to see their latest sidekick nodding off, her head resting on the window. Sam sits in the seat next to him, and for once Dean does the polite thing, and turns down the music a few decibels.

Sam doesn't miss the motion, "Wow," he says, sarcastically, "That's a first. What gives?" He can't help grinning at his older brother impishly.

Dean frowns, and reverses the motion, turning the noisy rock, a few decibels louder than it was originally, "Shaddup," he says, "Why are we heading west now? We were heading east. She," he motions with a thumb towards the back seat, "said East until this morning. What the hell?"

Sam shrugs, "I don't know. I remember how unclear visions are sometimes," he says, trying to find a common ground so Dean would chill out, "Maybe she's still working it out?"

Dean grunts, "She's paying for the gas," sounding frustrated and tired, "and start watching for a hotel," he then orders.

Sam reaches into the glovebox for a map. He pulls it out and after some wrinkling of the paper, he finally glances back to Dean, "There's a place about five miles further. Getting tired?"

Dean doesn't even justify that with an answer.

Kari's been asleep in the back for about 2 hours. Her eyes flutter open as the Impala pulls to a stop in front of a hotel where the sign reads: Rainbow Hotel.

Dean glares at Sam, "Seriously?" When he sees the name of the place. It doesn't stop him from crawling out of the driver's seat to go to the office and secure a room though.

Sam turns to spy at Kari while the two wait for Dean's return, "Sleep well?"

Kari shakes her head, "Not really," she bites her lower lip, "You realize what's going on with your brother, right?" She asks, quietly.

Sam turns the music off, "You mean, more than usual?" He had disclosed the whole black-eye Deanmon thing to her about three days ago.

She nods, "Yeah, well, I wasn't sleeping. I went Astral," she explains, "It's his soul. There's some weird mark on it." A finger reaches out and she traces the shape of the mark on her skin. A strange l-shaped crescent with two dots to the side.

Sam's eyes widen a ton, "Shit," he says, "We got rid of that mark. It's how the Darkness was freed." He looks towards the office door frantically. He does not want Dean to walk into this conversation.

Kari shakes her head, "Um, maybe bodily?" She guesses, " but not spiritually. I don't know I've never dealt with things like this. Really you both are well beyond my experience level," she grins a little, "but it's a clear scar. The damage on his soul is …" then she bites down on her lower lip as Dean re-opens his door.

The eldest Winchester turns the car towards a room at the back of the two-story run-down motel. Unfortunately, they have a room on the top floor. They are so far in the boonies, there isn't even a bar nearby. Dean glances around the room, frowning a bit, then says something about a beer run.

Sam lets Dean go, using Research as his excuse. The door's barely click closed, when he turns his brown eyes back at the strange girl, "Damage to his soul?" he nearly hisses. He can't decide if he should be angry or scared out of his mind.

Casually Kari tosses her bag on the small couch, her informal way of claiming her bed, "I'm not sure. But it looks permanent. I um, I've never seen anything like it," she sits down on the couch with a huff, "Never. And I've spent a lot of time in the astral plane."

Silence envelopes the space around them as they both try to ponder the meaning of this.

Finally, about ten minutes later, Kari looks to Sam, "We need a priest. If anyone would have anything on this, it's the Jesuits." She pauses reconsidering those words, "Or a Hoo Doo Priest or Priestess."

A quick Google search yields a Catholic Church about 15 miles away. They make plans to sneak over tomorrow, hoping that Dean's hangover will be epic. They are in the wrong part of the country for Hoo Doo.


	18. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: I own nothing except my ideas

Chapter 16 – Come Sail Away (with me)

When the sun comes up the next morning, Kari wakes. She's spent the night on that couch, and now has a lovely kink her neck. Groaning softly, she massages the soreness with a hand, while gazing over at both the beds. Sam's feet stick out past the bottom of the mattress. Dean is snoring off his binger from the early morning hours. Once the pressure relieves a bit she grabs some clothes and steals a shower.

While she sneaks back out, she reaches out and pokes Sam's shoulder. He grunts a bit, but doesn't wake. She decides instead to run a finger down the bottom of one of his exposed feet. This brings him upright quick, uttering, "What the hell?"

"Shhh!" Kari urges crossing her lips with her index finger. A moment later she points towards the door.

Sam grunts a reply, remembering their plan. Moments later he's trudging in for a shower.

By the time he joins her outside she's at least procured coffee from the small free breakfast bar the hotel owns. It's barely edible, but it's caffeine in some form, so it will count. Sam swiped the Impala's keys and moments later the two are rumbling down the road, away from the hotel and Dean's sleeping form.

They stop for breakfast at a nearby local favorite, recommended by the clerk at the hotel. The coffee here is so much better. They enjoy some of the best French Toast ever. Sam's laptop is guided through research while they finish up, and then they head back out to the car to catch the early services at the Church they identified last night.

About halfway to the car, Kari suddenly stills, and cries out in pain. A moment later, Sam is holding her upright, while she is lost in a vision. Sam recognizes the pattern. He frowns, remembering how he hated his own visions, and the pain and confusion of the moment.

"Don't you see it?" she asks when she comes to. "Look!" she extends a hand and points off, into the sky. "It left a trail!" she gushes excitedly.

Sam follows her pointing, but frowns, "Uh … ummm," he manages, rubbing his eyes a moment and trying to see whatever she claims is there one more time. He shakes his head, longish shaggy brown locks swaying slightly, "Nope," he concludes, "I just see sunshine and blue skies."

Kari holds out her hands, "Give me the keys! We can follow it!" she says. Her voice is full of excitement and it's not an order for the keys. Sam hesitates, thinking of Dean's potential reaction, but the urgency in her voice can't be denied. Moments later, she's behind the wheel. The car peels out, leaving the smell of burnt rubber behind them.

A few miles later, she turns, "Buckle up," she tells him. The buckle is barely connected when she wildly turns the wheel. The car spins slightly, floating a bit while trying to adjust to the change in motion. Then they are barreling across a fallow farmer's field.

"Shit!" Sam utters when they leave the pavement, "Be careful, this car isn't built for this."

The path she takes is odd. Around trees eventually, back on some roads, then off again. When she comes screeching to a stop, they are near a river, and the muddy banks are soft beneath the weight of the heavy car. Sam feels it sink as they get out.

Kari's barely speaking at this point. She splashes into the river, and up the opposite bank. Sam follows fast; there's no time to grab equipment, and he doesn't want to lose his sight of her. He makes a mental note to call a tow to get them out of the mud as he splashes in her wake.

Finally, Kari comes to a stop, in front of a very narrow cave. She reaches out to stone that blocks the entrance. "Look at all this … dust?" she asks, rubbing whatever is unseen between a couple fingers. "What is this?" she asks Sam.

Sam frowns, "No clue, since I can't see whatever it is you are chasing."

A moment later something is exiting that cave, and pushing Kari out of the way so they can clear the opening. She lands in the mud on her backside, grunting.

Sam's posture shifts to defensive, untl the exiting form straightens up. Golden irses stare blankly at him. Then he realizes he pushed the other one over, and a hand extends to help her up.

"How did you find me?" Jack asks, quietly, her tone even.

Sam nods towards the muddy Kari, who can't help but split into a grin, "I think …" she starts, then takes a step towards Jack, "can … can I see your back?" she asks, still not explaining things.

Jack weighs this request carefully. He tilts his head slightly, processing her emotions that are in her voice as well as her non-verbal signals.

That tilt, reminds Sam so much, of Castiel, that it's almost painful.

A moment later the young Nephillim turns slowly.

Kari steps closer and pushes a hand against his right shoulder blade. "You're bleeding. Or … well something. It's not blood. But it's leaving a trail. I followed it." She does the human thing and applies pressure to it.

The trio is so occupied with Jack that no one notices the second person climb out of the cave. She straightens up, pushes back her hair, and can't help but grin, "It's not blood," she offers coolly.

Sam turns quickly and his brown eyes study the other form. Her eyes freak him out inside, but he straightens his shoulders with a huff, shifting back to a more defensive position. "Don't move!" he warns her.

Seth can't help but smirk, "Jack needs your help, Sam Winchester," she says in bored tones, "He just needed me to help find you."

Sam's face hardens. It's always a bad thing when people you don't know, know your name. He motions to Kari, and to Jack, "Guys come over here," he says carefully.

Seth rolls those strange eye, "No worries," she utters, "I just wanted to throw a stone in the pot," as she nods towards Jack. "The rest, is up to all of you."

A bright blue light explodes suddenly and when Sam and Kari can see again, the strange woman is gone. Jack is still right where he was.

The silence that descends is strangely uneasy. Finally, after a few clicks, Kari speaks up, "Sam. We need to go get Dean, and head back to the Bunker."

Sam's eyebrows knit in confusion, but he leaves it unsaid. He elects instead to say, "Jack you can come with us," in as friendly and gentle of a tone he can manage.

Jack nods, "That was the plan." Lucky for them Jack's handy because getting the Impala out of that mud was easy with him there.

Sam takes the wheel and they follow roads this time, heading back towards the hotel, "What about that priest?" he eventually asks Kari.

She shakes her head, and so does Jack. "Don't need 'im," Kari says sounding confident, "Jack can handle this."

With Sam's eyes on the road, he misses Jack's slight frown of uneasiness. He feels claustrophobic in this strange device.

Sam bursts into the hotel room once they get back, and wakes Dean fast with a rough shake of the shoulder, "Get the hell up. We found Jack," he says gruffly, "and we're leaving."

Dean's bloodshot eyes widen, and gruffly he mutters, "Son of a bitch," before getting out of bed and dressing fast. He carries out the remaining bags. Then he spots Baby and her quasi-mud-bath. "What the Hell, Sam?"

He tosses the keys to his brother when Dean drops the bags, "Don't blame me. Kari did it."

The trunk gets slammed shut and soon the four of them are driving faster than they should down the road, for Lebanon, Kansas.


End file.
